A stagetic slip
by Animelemon
Summary: A romance and comfession
1. chapter 1

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Nagatoro threw open the door to the art club, a distinctive "Nagatoro" slap echoing around the room.

She opened her mouth to declare her arrival, then closed it when she saw Senpai hadn't reacted. He'd gotten used to her surprise while she was still getting used to that fact. She missed his astonished and alarmed expression at her entrance, but she liked this too.

That was what made it hard to get used to his calm demeanor. Things were moving forward, though she could hardly believe it after so much time. It was an incredulous feeling, difficult to accept because it made her too… pleased.

She didn't want to use "happy", even if that was true. Nagatoro just didn't feel like she'd made it that far yet. It was a romantic thought, and she was, in her own way, a romantic person. That was why she accepted the semantic discrepancy.

Nagatoro was also a confident girl. There were things that fazed her, sure, but a major part of her confidence was in her own ability to fix any issues that came up. A sort of backstep knowledge that even if she experienced a hiccup in her plans, she could catch her footing and match things to her pace. It'd certainly helped a number of times when Senpai surprised her.

Indeed, "pleased" was in some ways more appropriate than "happy". There was a connotation of power in it, of superiority in their context. Like a queen would be pleased that a servant had finally learned a desired skill. A skill like not flinching when a door opened. Regardless of when or how Senpai might surprise her, her plans always came through in some way, advancing things inch by strategic inch.

"Senpai! How ya doin' today!?" Nagatoro exclaimed with typical brightness.

"Ah, hey," he said, turning his head slightly and giving a nod.

Hm, maybe he was TOO used to her entrance. She approached him and set a forearm on his shoulder, leaning on it slyly. "You didn't answer the question, Senpai."

He looked more fully at her and smiled warmly. It made her heart twitch, but she maintained her composure. "I'm good, I guess. How're you?"

"Ah, you know, I'm pretty good," Nagatoro realized he wasn't reacting to her proximity, "but better now that I'm here with you." She reached over with her other hand and lightly nuzzled his cheek with her knuckles. That should get a frustrated blush and a push away.

She got the blush, but not the push, not even knocking her hand away. And the blush did seem embarrassed, but something was off about it. It didn't exactly look the same. His lips warbled a little, yet again it wasn't the same. She had the sense that her proximity meant nothing, while her brush had been taken differently than intended.

Nagatoro straightened herself slowly with a neutral expression. Senpai smiled at her again, then turned back to his work. It was a calm turn, flowing instead of the usual rigidity. She went to the couch and sat on it, crossing her legs and draping an arm over its back. Bringing a speculative hand to her mouth, she stared at his back.

Something was different. Different from even just yesterday. It'd taken him a while to get used to the door and she'd seen the gradual change. Even a week ago he'd once flinched a shoulder. Small, but still there. There was a similar progression with his reaction to her closeness and her teasing, except he'd seemed to have gone from partially there to completely relaxed in a day.

She looked at his drawing. A typical still-life. Nagatoro sensed an opportunity to up the ante. She would see just how far that calmness went.

"Senpai, you're always drawing those boring still-lifes," she started. Hardly the first time she opened with that insult, but it got results.

"That's not true. I draw you sometimes," he interrupted.

Nagatoro blushed, caught off-guard. She grit her teeth to steady herself and continue. "I guess that's true, but you don't do it often."

"Yeah, it's been a while." He paused his sketching for a few moments, then turned to face her. "Would you be okay with modelling today?"

That was… forward of him. Nagatoro hesitated with uncommon uncertainty. "I, uhm, yeah, sure. I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" She was trying to recover some sort of momentum.

"Well, yeah," Senpai laughed, "Like I said, it's been a while."

Nagatoro frowned, frustrated with his flippant tone. She forced a sly smile over it, despite growing misgivings in her heart. "Yeah, it's been a while." She stood, taking a casual step towards him. "But hasn't it been longer since you did it while I was in something other than my uniform?" She twirled a finger in her hair absentmindedly as she took another two or three steps, letting the silence sink in. "Y'know, something moreinteresting?" She leaned forward with that inflection so her head was level to his, well aware of the small gap now between the neck of her shirt and skin.

"I mean, I don't think we have any costumes," Senpai responded, unfazed, "We could do your swimsuit though. If you don't mind getting it." He blinked, then smiled, crossing his arms. "Or if you're already wearing it?"

Nagatoro flushed as she back-stepped, shocked. Again she forced a grin, "Th-thinking about what's under my clothes, Lewd-Senpai?"

Finally he reacted more normally. "Wh- N-no! I mean, I didn't mean it that way!"

"Really?" she teased, feeling the flow move her way, "Reeeally???" Nagatoro moved in, reaching out to tickle his sides obnoxiously. "You sure you weren't thinking about that Pervert-Senpai?

Her hands didn't make their targets, however, and the flow stopped. He had caught one, an odd firmness in his grip that made her pause. It didn't hurt, but it did demand compliance. He wasn't looking at her.

"I, I didn't. But, um, I guess I kind of…" he adjusted his glasses, "did think about it anyways. So, um, sorry about that." Nagatoro felt a stir of paranoia hearing this apology. "And, I guess it's weird to bring this up now, but I dunno when else… It's, er, well, could you kinda be less… physical? With me?"

Nagatoro didn't move at first, besides her eyes widening. He released her, which let her straighten up to watch him blankly, her arms falling to her sides.

"Why?"

A simple question. Also one laden with subtle emotion. She covered it well enough that someone as thick as Senpai wouldn't catch on, but it felt obvious to her. Her friends likely would have caught on, and she was happy they weren't here. Because she had a feeling she already knew the answer.

"Well, um… heh…" Senpai's laugh was quiet and awkward as he rubbed the back of his head. "You see… it's that I kind of have a, um, date…" He brought his hands together, tapping his thumbs with a wobbly smile.

'No. You don't.'

She didn't actually say that, even if it was an instinctual response. Just as instinctual was the realization that wasn't what she should say. It wasn't a "Nagatoro" kind of response. She might be off her game with how he'd been acting, but she wasn't so far off she'd tread into what was obviously hopeful disbelief.

She steadied herself and tried to raise another smile. She barely managed. "Yeah, right. Liar-Senpai… Like anyone would agree to go out with you."

"Well, actually… she confessed to me."

"Confessed!?"

"Yeah, behind the gym yesterday."

A confession? There was no way. But he didn't look dishonest. He never had this whole time. Still, a confession? That was a step beyond merely asking someone out on a date. A date could be an experiment, a difficult chance that may or may not go well to varying degrees. But confessing was a decision. One accepted or rejected, a 50-50 shot risking everything.

Senpai was supposed to be the one doing that. Or at least the one falling back on the date option. Nagatoro had never known which she'd prefer since it was a battle between the teasing possibility of a relationship or outright confirmation of it. She might have been able to muddle that 50-50 into something more ambiguous, as was her style, but she had known which way she leaned.

'Had.' She 'had' known, even if she still did know. All of a sudden there was a sense of past tense to the whole concept whichever way it went. It was probably the way he was grinning: Weak, awkward, yet incredibly genuine. She'd seen it before in her mind's eye when she imagined how his confession might have gone and how she might have answered it, whichever way it went.

Nagatoro felt a shudder in her chest that spread out in an oozing, discomforting way. She was suddenly unbalanced, unaware that a lethargic sway had begun in her legs. With a stern breath, she stomped her foot, collecting herself. Senpai cocked his head curiously as he watched her.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his expression darkening with concern.

"Y-yeah!" Nagatoro uttered. "I, um, I…" She had no idea what to say as her heart fell a few steps. "G-good job?"

He brightened at that. It made her feel sick. A feeling that grew when he stood. She knew what he was going to do when she saw that. She knew just like she knew that she wasn't going to escape it. Yet what else could she do but accept it?

He hugged her. And she felt dead. The words were coming. An obvious fact after her previous premonition was confirmed. Nagatoro tried to sigh in defeat, but instead she hiccuped when a shudder interrupted her.

"I don't think I could have done it without you," Senpai mused, clutching her affectionately. He hadn't even noticed she wasn't hugging him back. "You've helped me out a lot and I've meant to thank you for a long time."

"Yeah," she muttered blandly, staring over his shoulder at nothing.

"You're a great friend."

Nagatoro coughed, then gasped. Blinking her eyes open she saw the ceiling of her room. After a few through her mouth, she tried to breathe in through her nose and found it stuffy. That explained the rude awakening.

Pressing her elbows into her bed, she lifted herself up and quietly looked around her room. She didn't know what she was looking for, or, she did, but didn't know what it could possibly be. Something, anything, that would confirm she'd merely had a dream of her mind's creation instead of a dream reconstructed from memories.

There was nothing, of course. That dream had happened at school, so why would anything be different here? Nagatoro wasn't the sort to trash her room in any way when she was depressed. Actually, it was fairly uncommon to use that word regarding her mood at all. Yet here she was.

She shuffled her butt backwards as she lifted herself into a sitting position, wrapping her arms around her knees as she settled her cheek atop them. She finally noticed a slight, wet feeling around her eyes, which didn't exactly surprise her. Nagatoro tried to breathe in through her nose again, maybe an absentminded self-punishment since she also coughed again. After catching her breath with effort, a small sigh irritatingly escaped her, a shrinking feeling accompanying it while the pressure between her knee and cheek increased.

She was increasingly confident that the dream was indeed a construct of her mind, but it still held a distressing sense of inevitability. Nagatoro knew that was nothing more than paranoia, and yet it scared her all the same. She sighed again, squeezing her knees more tightly and trying to ignore the nervous shiver passing through her.

Time passed, and she recovered. Letting go of her legs, she shifted and set her feet firmly on the floor, her hands similarly pressed into her bed. The pressure both carpet and mattress returned helped her find some solidity in the moment.

She pushed harder with her hands to help herself stand. Only to discover her legs didn't have the same level of determination. She bounced lightly on the mattress and frowned. Partially Nagatoro was annoyed that that meant she wasn't as recovered as she thought, but mostly it was the fact that even such a brief frustration had returned some tears to her eyes.

Nagatoro wasn't crying. Not really, she told herself, since none of the tears were big enough to roll down her cheeks. She was definitely stressed, however, even a bit ill-feeling, much like in her dream.

She pressed her palm to her temple, sort of willing it to shove the thought of the dream from her head. It obviously didn't and she sighed yet again. It felt more heated this time.

She realized she wasn't just frustrated; she was angry. Angry with herself. She'd been so caught up in the joy of teasing Senpai and the confidence that he was hers and hers alone that she'd never considered the possibility that maybe the subtle ways she helped him improve would make him attractive to others. She herself was evidence that not everyone wants the star child of the classroom, and that a diamond-in-the-rough sparkles once uncovered.

Nagatoro rubbed her forearm across her eyes aggressively, her lips set with determination. With a distinctively raw feeling, her eyes set in the same way, fixated on the door.

She didn't believe the dream anymore. Not even in the slightest. It didn't change the chance of a slip-up she'd never considered, and was now alarmingly plausible. She was taking things too slow, too cautiously. However much she might want him to be the one to do it, she no longer felt it was worth this unbeknownst risk.

She stood, now in full confidence. There was a lingering waver in her chest, but she could push through it. Shewouldpush through it. Nagatoro didn't yet know specifically how at the moment, but she knew it. Like she knew what she ultimately needed to do.

With grim determination, Nagatoro headed to her door, blushing as she took the handle and remembered she hadn't dressed for the day yet. Turning around, she flusteredly took to the task. More frustration, more determination


	2. chapter 2

A Strategic Slip-up

PineTrain

Chapter 2

Chapter Text

The path to school was surprisingly short, mentally. Trips often are when the mind is occupied with prying thoughts. Not that "prying" always meant "negative" thoughts, even if they were colored that way currently.

Such was Nagatoro's stubborn march.

Weedling doubts kept pressing alongside her determination, but determined she remained. They were trying their damndest to break her, but she would remain resolute, if a bit wavering. That was the important thing: Focusing on her strength, her seriousness. So much so that she could push away minute thoughts of failure.

But they always returned nonetheless.

Nagatoro was otherwise pretty successful on the matter during the walk, but during school was another thing. It was hours of sitting, of thinking, of dwelling. There was no longer the support of spiking adrenaline to mash out the physical aspects of worry, and they quickly showed. Not outwardly, of course, because Nagatoro was generally skilled at covering her emotions.

"Generally."

An oddly apparent word to describe a now apparent flaw. "Oddly" because she had been getting used to the discomfort of the entire situation and it still managed to sting her in such a minor way.

Nagatoro didn't visit the cafeteria for lunch. She had called in a bathroom break 5 minutes before lunch with no intention to return. Instead, she'd hidden just inside the empty classroom opposite Senpai's clubroom.

She crouched, alone with her thoughts in those few minutes. They weren't really thoughts, though, just sudden memories of her dream. She had wanted this time to plan for what was about to happen, but here she was, sabotaging herself unconsciously.

The school bell rang for lunch and Nagatoro immediately plunged herself against the door. No one was going to come into this room, she knew. Or she was pretty sure, since they sometimes did. She really wasn't sure at all, but she was fighting to believe she was as she touched open the door just enough to peek out to the art club's entrance.

Soon enough, Senpai appeared and entered. Nagatoro felt weirdly elated. It was probably due to her complicated situation, but it was a bit distressing for the same reason.

Then her friends appeared and entered, much more jovially than Senpai had. It alarmed her and she gripped the doorframe. She'd often been annoyed by their overly physical interactions with Senpai in the past, but now… now was different…

She wanted to immediately head in, angry like she usually was when her friends interfered. But she couldn't. Nagatoro gripped the doorframe tighter, suddenly scared. What if she was wrong about the dream just being a dream? What if itwassomething that had happened and she'd just temporarily forgotten? What if in the next second some unknown girl would appear?

She clenched her jaw and stomped her foot. Then she did it again seeking solidity. She wasn't going to fall into the same depression as before. Anger blazed within her. She was going to make her move.

Throwing the door fully open with a loud, "Nagatoro" snap, she took a dark step out into the hall. It was empty, for a moment. The noise quickly attracted a red-head's attention poking out the door of the art club, very quickly followed by a blonde, twin-tailed compatriot below it. They both developed panicked expressions as she began her approach, yelling farewells back into the room before scooting out of it. Her eyes followed with a blank, stern glare.

Just before out-of-sight, however, the red-head screeched to a halt. Smirking, she saluted two fingers to her forehead, then flicked them off and up.

Since it was her friend, Nagatoro wanted to believe it was a joking gesture of support. It was hard to convince herself of that at the moment, though, especially since her friend had a history of over-familiarity with Senpai. A history she was not in the mood to tolerate.

Reaching the door to the clubroom, she found it open since her friends hadn't closed it behind them. She was frustrated since it meant she couldn't open it herself in a different way than in her dream. Quicker or slower (probably the former) she just now realized how much she wished she could've done it. That was where the dream had started after all.

"Nagatoro?"

She blinked out of her frustrated thoughts, suddenly aware she'd been staring at the doorframe a while now. "Huh…" she said under her breath.

"Is, uh, are you alright?" Senpai asked.

She froze, a shiver up her spine. It wasn't the same words as in the dream, but it was a similar question to one in it. And she was very vividly remembering it at the moment.

Senpai had stood, speaking as he approached, "Nagatoro? Is something wrong? You look, er, not great."

His words sent a subtle jolt into her, letting her realize how she'd fallen back into her earlier mood. Frowning, she shook her whole body to recover. Senpai was surprised by that, which was convenient since he had come close enough to grab his wrist. She turned and marched off, dragging him roughly behind.

"Wh- Nagatoro! Where are we going!?"

"Somewhere!"

"Where?"

She paused for an instant, spinning to see his stumbling gait bring his face inches from hers. "Somewhere."

Her voice was stern. Her heart was not. She turned away quickly so he wouldn't see that complicated mix of determination and fear in her eyes. Nagatoro knew what she wanted to do, but it got harder to keep going the closer she was to her destination. 'Their' destination.

It had to be theirs, she felt, very aware of his skin under her palm as she gripped him. In the dream it was where he said that girl, whoever she was, had confessed to him. Nagatoro didn't know if it was pride, vanity, or whatever, that drove her, but she had to do it there. Sheneededto do it there.

And so they arrived behind the gym. Alone. Just the two of them. Nagatoro stopped, hesitated a moment, then released him. She turned back at Senpai, and saw him looking up and to the right at some non-existent sight, his vibrant blush evidence he had suspicions of why they were here.

Nagatoro felt her cheeks hot as well, and glanced down, squeezing fists at her sides. She knew he had those suspicions of the truth of the matter, but also doubts. Understandable doubts. Doubts she'd developed as part of her long-term wooing. Doubts that now worried her.

She was about to be honest. Very honest. And she'd sort of shot herself in the foot with everything she'd done leading up to this particular moment. Nagatoro glared up at him, her eyes fierce as she fought through the turmoil within.

"I like you."

Senpai wavered before her, taking a fearful step back at her growling affect. His arms lifted half-defensively as he did so.

"N-" Nagatoro started, unable to finish even a one-syllable word as panic blasted through her.

She had flinched forward, and her body continued that motion through her arm so her hand could catch his shirt near his waist. Its fabric under her fingers gave her some time to catch up mentally. With a shiver, she clenched it harder.

"Wh- what?" Senpai asked. His voice was confused. And disingenuous. He was looking down to where she held him in place. He knew what she meant, he just didn't believe it.

Nagatoro grimaced, feeling very stressed by how this wasn't already done with. She didn't think she'd done a good job, but she'd hoped it would've ended as soon as she confessed. He liked her back, right?

"I like you," she repeated in an unintentionally harsh tone. She yanked his shirt hard and felt his hands on her shoulders after he stumbled. The force of their landing brought some clarity to her mind and she released him. He didn't move away.

A few silent seconds passed. Neither of them looked at the other.

"Nagatoro, are you alright?" he asked. His voice was soft, concerned. Annoyingly so.

"I'm fine," she quietly lied... "What do you think about what I said?"

Nagatoro felt uncomfortable saying that. It wasn't "her". It felt wrong, but also necessary. Being "her" meant being teasing, being coy, being everything but direct about her feelings. But she couldn't be that at the moment. She had to be more, even if it was an uncomfortable change.

He hadn't responded.

"Senpai…"

The air felt still, silent. Nagatoro suddenly found it within herself to look at him again. Her hands moved, twitching, to find his waist. He sucked in a gasp at her touch. His own fingers twitched as hers, and she could tell he'd forgotten his own grip upon her.

'Senpai…'

This time she said it wordlessly. Just in her head, but also with her eyes. The latter was unintentional, but she didn't regret it, her fingers squeezing where she'd grabbed him.

"I…" he started, his eyes growing wide like a startled deer, "You… uh? You're really fine?"

He was avoiding the question despite his answer being visible. She wilted.

Nagatoro could hardly believe it. It was exactly the same as in her room, when her legs had given out when she'd thought she was ready. That exact situation wasn't happening now. Not physically anyways. It was an emotional similarity, knowing her conscious felt one way and being surprised when her needling subconscious kicked in the metaphorical back of her knee.

But then Senpai's eyes widened even further, a different quality to them. His hands dropped from her shoulders slowly, shaking all the way, his fingers fluttering along her arms. He meekly gripped her wrists, possibly intending to pull them away. But she noticed a slight pressure keeping them in place instead.

Her mouth fell open a millimeter. Nagatoro was bewildered, and also somehow confident. This was all happening too early for him, he didn't know how to react. Senpai was stuck somewhere between believing her and thinking this was an elaborate prank. She didn't know where, but just knowing he was in-between was bizarrely elating.

Nagatoro grinned, flinching when a previously unnoticed tear rolled down her cheek. She remained resolute. "Senpai…"

His grip tightened. "You mean it."

It sounded like he meant it as a question, but it came out as a statement. An understanding. He matched her grin, but his was wildly uncertain.

"You could get any guy."

She heard stuttering in his words, despite him saying them normally.

"Shut up."

Her response surprised herself, but Nagatoro understood where it came from. She was sick of this nonsense. Sick of being stressed out by some nonsense dream when this dipshit boy she had a crush on blatantly felt the same way.

She lifted a hand to his collar, his own falling away from her wrist, and pulled him towards her so their foreheads met. "I likeyou," she growled, glaring at him.

She wanted to do more, but she couldn't. Maybe in some other context, some other situation where she took the lead, she could push forward, but now? No, she needed him to answer. Somehow, anyhow, she didn't care.

Senpai's breath was frantic against her face. It was predictable considering how intense she was making the situation. His eyes snapped back and forth in thought, refusing to meet hers until, for the briefest moment they did. Then immediately clenched closed. Nagatoro had just as brief a moment to speculate on the meaning of that before she felt something press her nose.

Blinking, she lost her aggression, the hand on his collar floating up. She touched the tip of her nose and found it just barely wet. He'd kissed her. Her nose. But he'd kissed her…

Nagatoro stepped back in surprise. Her arm at his waist lifted, since he still held it. She gaped at it, unsure what to do. Sure she'd felt she needed some response, any response, but it was still shocking to actually get it. And a kiss?

She twisted her wrist free from his grip. Crossing her arms over her stomach, she willed her shivering form still. A kiss on her nose. It was somehow more affectionate than it would've been on her lips. A warbled grin grew on her face and Nagatoro swore she could feel steam coming from her ears.

"Um…" Senpai tried to start. He was glancing aside and adjusted his glasses, his hand mostly covering his face. "W-was that wrong? To do, I mean."

He must not have noticed the grin. Nagatoro figured that he looked away the instant after he'd done it. It'd be easier to see her arms cross from the corner of his eye and that could be seen as defensive. She didn't particularly think that way, but she knew Senpai did.

"N-no," she said, paradoxically both surprised and unsurprised at her stutter. "D-does it mean you… y'know?"

"I, well, er, I don't really… remember what the question was. I don't want to get my, um, answer wrong."

Nagatoro seethed. This all felt so obvious and confusing at the same time. He liked her the way she liked him. He'd made it obvious just by kissing her. Why did she feel like she needed to hear him say unnecessary words?

He turned his gaze to her for a strangely long instant. Several seconds actually, she realized, during which she'd done nothing but stare back, unaware of what expression she'd shown him. He grabbed her collar just like she'd done his earlier, his eyes flashing the way only an overloaded mind can. Her mouth fell open a few millimeters, her eyelids falling similarly closed.

She felt her flinch coming and suppressed it when his lips touched hers. Nagatoro immediately pressed forward, tongue forefront to counter his predictably half-assed attempt at aggression. His body still had the momentum of weight and she had to step back, fighting with her mouth all the way until she caught herself with her foot.

She found balance in that moment. Confirmation too. Nagatoro felt steady in a number of ways as she pushed him back enough to break his concentration and thus his own balance.

Grabbing his clothes, she felt the urge to thrust her body against his. She stopped herself, however, and broke the kiss. There were tiny tears at the corner of Senpai's eyes. Nagatoro had several ideas about the reason for their existence, but they all told her that stopping was the right decision.

Her heart was beating a million times a minute, so his was probably a billion times. She might have been fearful that she'd been taking things too slow, but it was also possible to go too fast. He'd made several moves of his own just now, which meant her preferred explanation for his watery eyes was likely correct: He was overwhelmed. Yes, his eyes had shown that before any tears, and things had only gotten more intense after.

Nagatoro pulled back and glanced away. She gestured towards her own eyes and returned her arms to her stomach. In the corner of her vision, she saw him lift his glasses and wipe his face. He sniffed as the wiping hand came down. She moved forward.

The hand on his glasses had been coming down as well when her body met his. It froze, something she felt instead of saw since his arm touched her shoulder now. She laid her head just under his, along the collarbone, sighing into him. Her arms hadn't moved, but otherwise she was fully against him.

They hadn't moved because Nagatoro was waiting. He still hadn't said anything. She was 10000% positive about his feelings, but weirdly she still just needed to hear them before she was content. Until then, there was an impossible 1% doubt that remained in her mind. A remnant of the dream.

She felt calm though, however existent the doubt, however fast her heart. Leaning against him felt right, serene. Senpai must have felt the same, because his slow embrace carried none of his typical twitches or jolts. She heard the rapid, dull percussion in his chest, and it didn't match his outside calm. She liked that.

"Nagatoro…" he murmured. His own words subtly broke his posture. She wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't holding her. "I, um… you," she listened to his deep breath, suddenly aware of her shallow ones, "I like you too…"

Her muscles seized, shrinking minisculy as they tightened and thereby minisculy bringing her closer. Nagatoro lingered a few seconds, spitefully hoping he was as afraid during them as she had been the last few minutes. She'd gotten what she wanted, though, and she pushed her arms out, splitting them just long enough for her to embrace him as well. She clenched very, very tightly, also a bit in spite, though that was obviously not the only reason.

*gasp!*

Nagatoro released him enough to snap her head to the side. Her red-headed friend had a glare pointed downwards at the twin-tails whose mouth she covered. Glancing up to see Nagatoro's own glare, her own mouth fell wide open, her eyes swiftly the same.

They hadn't been there long. At least, they hadn't been looking long; there was no way to tell how long they'd been listening. The gasp and surprise on both their faces showed neither had expected to see what they were seeing.

She felt Senpai twitch in her arms. Felt his grip loosen a tad too much. Nagatoro reflexively clung back to him. It wasn't just to stop him from breaking the embrace, it was also a reflex to her friends' presence.

A glare appeared on her face, very different from how one friend had just done to another. That one had been simple frustration at drawing attention to themselves. This one was much harsher. More along the lines of protective aggression.

There was no sense in being coy about her feelings to them anymore. Nagatoro tugged Senpai close and blared her bloodlust to ward off any future transgressions against him. Twin-tails' twin-tails spun into the air like lightning had struck her, plenty of nervous sweat conducting it. The red-head, overcoming initial surprise, merely smirked, popping her eyebrows a few times and then pulling their stricken mutual friend around the corner.

Nagatoro waited, perking her ears to check if they'd truly gone. She couldn't hear very well over Senpai's strained breath. She looked up at him.

"Er *cough* N-naga- *gasp*"

She understood and loosened her grip. Senpai breathed in deeply a few times, then looked down at her. He smiled feebly, looking to the side. He was happy, but unsure how to proceed.

"A date," Nagatoro said, answering his mental question.

"A d-? I, uh, s-sure!"

"No," Nagatoro shook her head. "You…" she trailed off. Burying her face into his chest and squeezing him again, she repeated herself, "You…"

"O-oh…" he said. "U-um, well, then… Nagatoro, d-do you want to go... on a d-date sometime?"

She felt him lift a hand up. He was adjusting his glasses. Nagatoro smirked at that.

She nuzzled into him, murmuring, "Yeah, sure… Senpai…"


End file.
